


The Funeral of Will Graham

by neunundneunzig



Series: The Autonecrophilac Collection [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Autonecrophilia, Dark Will Graham, M/M, Season/Series 02, Sexual Roleplay, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/neunundneunzig
Summary: Continuation of the series, leaning more into plot, and canon plot. Will and Hannibal have more choice activities, mostly to deal with the fact that their time together is coming to a close.





	The Funeral of Will Graham

**Author's Note:**

> Super unhealthy coping mechanisms. Will is taking a funeral in a sexual roleplay to cope. I would highly recommend reading the previous pieces, but this could be read as a stand-alone as well.

Their time together was drawing to a close. Will knew it, Hannibal knew it and while neither of them acknowledged it at all, it was clear. They both wanted Will to leave with Hannibal, but there was the silent, growing truth that he wouldn’t. They drank bottles of wine into the night, burned old papers and made desperate, joyous love. It was the last time they would have each other like this. They both needed it, even though Hannibal would be the last to admit to any need. He would watch Will asleep in the moonlight, wanting to caress his face but too afraid to wake him. 

Will left after speaking with Jack again, a pit gnawing his stomach. Guilt was hurting him, and he couldn’t do anything about it but desire more hurt. He needed to turn Hannibal in, he couldn’t continue to be complicit in murders, sometimes he hated the fact that he could share a room, let alone a bed with Abigail’s killer. But no one knew him like Hannibal. He wanted to be there for him when the moment came but he knew he just couldn’t. 

He needed something physically to match the anguish in him. He called Hannibal as he got in the car, speaking before he even fully answered, “Tonight, I need it tonight.”

“Will?”

“Don’t. That thing you’ve been talking about. I really need it.”

 

“You sound upset. Would you like to-”

“Talk about it? Seriously? No, I want it bad.” He changed his tone, trying to seem less desperate and hurt and more flirtatious. It was transparent, especially to Hannibal, “I can’t stop thinking about it. Now with the coffin… Please, Hannibal, I need you.”

“...I don’t like this Will.”

“I didn’t like being fucked next to a saw.” He snapped. It was a lie and they both knew it. 

Hannibal thought for a bit, “I don’t enjoy your attitude. We’re going to have to talk when you get here. But I will make the arrangements.”

Will arrived, just thrumming with excitement. It was good. It quelled his thirst, the deep one in his heart, his desire for death and for debauchery. That took over the desire for pain. He knocked, trying to keep the smile off his face. 

Hannibal answered, eyes still clouded with concern. Will pushed him past the doorway and sealed their lips together, smiling against him. Hannibal kissed back in surprise at first, then melted into it. Will grabbed his shirt and muttered, “Bury me.”

Hannibal kissed him deeper, hand sliding up his shirt. Will groaned and then went somewhat slack, still standing. Hannibal sucked his lips and grabbed his ass, purely possessive, nothing but. He pulled back, “Let me prepare you, love. You couldn't possibly be buried as is.”

Will noticed than Hannibal was in a black suit, a grey paisely tie. Hr shuddered and took the murderer’s hand, being led to the basement, the area of his passions, as it had become. An alcove for the most hidden behaviors of theirs. 

Instead, Hannibal brought him upstairs, set him down in front of a desk with mirrors. Will couldn't get the word. A boudoir? He would ask Hannibal, but it didn't seem the time.hannibal sat him in a squeaking chair and started applying make up. Will didn't question it. It was a pale, subtle mask. He soon identified the purpose. It was the same level of stage make up than would be applied to a corpse. Hannibal was preparing him for the service. 

His face had an inhanced palor, contoured purposefully. His facial hair was shaved gently. Light mascara was applied and rouge to brighten his cheeks and lips. Hannibal gave a gentle kiss before the lipstick. It was pure and sweet, completely unlike them.

Will didn't move as Hannibal pulled out the eye caps. He had them specially ordered to not damage Will's eyes. He didn't quite know who from but Will trusted him. He placed them in and closed Will's eyelids. It was the last he saw for hours. Hannibal sutured his lips shut partially, then glued then entirely closed. Then, he injected Will with their usual substance, then pressed something else into his body and Will's went blank for a time.

* * *

There was soft, somber music playing. Will felt his cock twitch at it, remembering the funerals he attended in his childhood. First older or less fortunate relatives then unrelated ones he wandered into, a grotesque, erotic curiousity, his sexual awakening. 

He head footsteps up to him. He wanted to open his eyes but he couldn't. No. He couldn't worry about it. He was a corpse. This was his wake. He would shudder if he could. Hannibal stood before him. He could vaguely feel the cushioning around him. A coffin specially ordered just for him. Will needed this more than anything. He knew Hannibal Would finance his whole funeral, would get only the best, as a comfort to himself more than Will. 

“Ah… dearest. The wake isn't for another two hours. It seems you're left in my care.” He spoke gently. “All to my devices.”

There was no fake mourning. Hannibal was alone with him, there was no need. Only the need to take what was his again. He stroked Will's folded arms gently. His touch was soft, experimental. Then it moved past his shoulders to rub his chest, nice and slow. At first it seemed he could be smoothing the lapels of Will's shirt. But they knew it was more than that. Will didn't move. He was cold to the touch. He was a perfect dead boy.  
He felt a hot puff of breath on his face before Hannibal kissed his slack, sealed lips. He kissed curiously, tongue poking at the glue and sutures, desiring to be inside an empty body. He kissed his mouth, sloppier than Hannibal would typically be. 

Hannibal started unbuttoning his shirt, pulling his tie open. Lust filled as he was, he wasn't going to dare rip his clothing. He kissed Will's cold chest, nuzzling at his heart.  
Then, weight on him. Heavy. Hannibal was in the coffin now, on top of him. He picked the flowers from Will's hands and tossed them on the ground. He started kissing Will's neck deeply, body rolling against him. Will was the perfect corpse. His erection, however, betrayed him, throbbing against Hannibal. 

“Oh darling… is this for me? You're always… exquisite.” He grabbed Will's hand to move it, then stopped, fascinated. He kissed his palm, gentle, then started sucking his fingers, kissing his knuckles, testing his teeth against his wrists. He gave a gentle kiss, then continued his horrible exploration of the cadaver. 

He opened Will's pants and started fondling him, then kissed his sealed mouth again, sucking the lips between his as best he could. He rocked down, despite his own suit and the hand between them, not caring to seem proper when he was alone with his lover's body. 

Will's erection dribbled precum onto said suit, smearing against the fabric as Hannibal tugged on it. Hannibal groaned against his mouth, feeling it on his fingers. 

“My body.” He whispered possessively, “Always so perfect for me, so willing. If I had time I'd fuck it now.” 

Will felt a deep, internal pleasure at Hannibal cursing at him, but he was slipping so deeply into this mindframe, the touches and words felt distant. He felt as though he was watching Hannibal and himself externally. He could imagine it perfectly, Hannibal's perfect hair slightly askew, his horrific tie tossed over his shoulder, his hands perfectly manicured as he desecrated Will's body before his wake. His lips smeared slightly and his face paled in splotches with the make up used to make Will seem at home in the casket. 

He didn't realize Hannibal had pulled himself out until he was rubbing his unclothed erection against Will's, resuming the ministrations on his mouth, with which he certainly had a fascination of. He bit nearly too hard on his lip and let out a noise with it. Will felt close to ecstacy. 

Hannibal's hand cupped his testicles and massage them intrusively, then moved to even more intrusive touch, teasing his rim. His aim wasn't to penetrate, but only to fondle, to touch and feel and play with an object which belonged to him, purely for his pleasure. 

He rocked against Will again, and that was all the faux corpse could manage, spilling himself between them. 

“Ruined my suit.” Hannibal growled, then smacked Will's face. The complete lack of response seemed to encourage him. He rocked faster and left his own mess on both their clothing, gasping and gnawing at his neck as he did. 

He went limp then, and rest his head in the crevice of Will's turned neck. He began to plant gentle kisses, and muttered sweetly to him.

“My dearest. You'll be mine forever, nothing, not even death can pull you from me. I'm going to keep you. Perfect like this, you'll stay mine.” He smiled against his skin, hand wandering down to touch his stomach, “Perhaps… I'll have to take some of these, if they're not ruined already. All mine, my love, my Will.”

He planted a final kiss on his lips before climbing out of the coffin. Then, the lid shut. Will startled for a moment in claustrophobia, and then again when the thought hit him that Hannibal didn't fix him and they would all find him half stripped and covered in semen. 

He surprised himself with the ridiculousness and the pleasure of that thought. _They_ wouldn't because there was no them. This wasn't real. 

Nonetheless, Will let himself fall into a more dreamlike, restful set, falling off the the fantasy of being lowered, Hannibal tossing the first shovelful of dirt over the grave. 

A buried corpse didn't have to worry about anything.

* * *

Will woke up cleaned and nude in Hannibal's bed. The man held his back, pressed against him. Will knew he was listening to his pulse, measuring vitals, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless. It felt empty, however. Their bodies twined together, but they were falling further and further apart. 

“How was that?” Hannibal asked gently.

Will felt tears form in his eyes, “Perfect.”

“....Will.”

“Please just hold me.” He turned and buried his face in Hannibal's strong, soft chest. Hannibal didn't deny him the affection, running his hands up the curled mess of Will's hair into his scalp. 

After some time, Hannibal spoke, “I can't do this to you again. It's clear that I'm encouraging a death wish in you, and that the line of consent and your ability, physical and mentally, to opt out are not as I would like them to be. This is dangerous. And a risk I cannot take with you.”

Will felt the pang of anger in his chest. Hannibal could destroy his mind, force him into prison, kill his daughter, and turn everyone against him, but he wouldn't hurt Will when he _wanted_ it? But he didn't say a word. Hannibal, in all his narcissism, didn't seem to understand that Will held on to these measures of contempt. Additionally, Hannibal was right. What hurt most for Will was waking up. Having to deal again with being alive. It was nearly too much to bear. 

Instead of speaking, Will wanted to punish himself again for being with Hannibal. He reached down and stroked the man, “Thank you. I can't be angry. You know what's best for me. You really always have.”

Hannibal guided his hand back up, holding it in his own, “Stay in my arms right now, Will.” he kissed below his ear, “We’ll be free and together soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel (finale?) For this series brewing. 
> 
> Allways taking prompts!


End file.
